In the 90s, you could acquire max-level skills every 14 days.

Long benches on the second floor of the gymnasium.

Zhang Yong lay still, his shirt lifted up, revealing his entire back.

The bruise on one side of the ribs had turned from dark purple to yellowish-green, like a steamed bun with various colors.

Yang Cheng squatted down beside him, heated up the liniment, and pressed it onto Zhang Yong's back.

"hiss--"

Zhang Yong bit the towel.

The spicy smell of the liniment went straight into my nasal cavity, and Yang Cheng's technique was heavy, focusing his pressure on the painful areas.

"Bear with it." Yang Cheng cursed as he pressed the buttons. "That vice-captain of Fengtai, surnamed Diao, is a real piece of work. He dares to put someone who's been suspended into the amateur group. He's playing with people's lives."

"I went to the team yesterday to ask, and they said someone from above had put in a good word for me, but no one would tell me who it was."

Yang Cheng then took out a liniment from the tin box next to him, tore off the white paper, and stuck it on the bruised area on Zhang Yong's left side.

This medicine was allocated internally by the district sports school and is exclusively for provincial team training; it's impossible to get it from outside.

Yang Cheng tapped the plaster with his finger. "The injury you got last time wasn't bad either. Put this on to help it heal. Don't let him see it when you're fighting."

"He has a habit when he hits people: he'll first test them with a jab, and once he finds that you're protecting your ribs, he'll immediately strike with his right hand. That's how he cracked someone's eye socket last year in Shijingshan."

Zhang Yong nodded, closed his eyes, and the system panel flashed in his mind.

[Fighting Lv.4: Progress 27% (AFK... 30x speed)]

There are four days left until next Thursday.

"Coach." Zhang Yong opened his eyes.

"Um?"

"Could you send me a few more people tomorrow? I'm afraid I won't get enough practice if there aren't enough."

Yang Cheng paused for a moment.

He stared at Zhang Yong's back for several seconds.

Just now, he fought six rounds against Dazhuang and Xiaozhou, each on their own.

Dazhuang was hit in the chest by a straight punch and was forced to step back from the rope circle.

Xiao Zhou fared even worse; a single uppercut nearly knocked his protective gear off.

Yang Cheng had been a Sanda coach for eight years and had never seen anyone improve so quickly.

He had a thought in his mind, but he didn't dare to say it aloud.

"Okay." Yang Cheng stood up, tightened the cap on the liniment bottle, and put it away.

"Starting this afternoon, I'll call Old Chen from the boxing team next door, and borrow two sparring partners from the district team. You'll do five sets a day, three minutes per set."

He paused for a moment.

"I'll feed you targets when I have time."

"I've never seen you progress at this rate before."

"If you win this game, I plan to submit your name to the city team."

Zhang Yong propped himself up on the bench and stretched his neck.

"Coach Xie, please make yourself at home."

"Stop talking nonsense and get up! Get up! Let's try again!"

Yang Cheng slapped the hand target with a loud crack.

The sweat on the floor hadn't dried yet when new sweat dripped onto it.

……

For three consecutive days.

Zhang Yong spends his days at the gymnasium, and after training in the afternoon, he goes home, eats, takes a shower, and goes straight to his bedroom.

He continued writing his book, "The Ingenuity of a Great Nation: The Furnace Fire".

He wrote about a county coal mine technician named Meng Fanyong who, in three months, with only a vernier caliper and a well-worn copy of "Boiler Principles," managed to install two rows of secondary air nozzles in the middle of the furnace.

After the modification, the steam output per ton of coal increased by 30%, and the emitted smoke turned light gray.

I've been boxing during the day and writing articles at night these past few days.

He doesn't dare to stop now.

A year and a half.

He needed to save up 30,000 yuan before the spring of 1992.

For 30,000 yuan, you can buy a 150-square-meter apartment in the most central part of Shenzhen's future development.

Thirty-six years later, that number was over seventy million.

But royalties alone are not enough.

The "Great Power" series in October is priced at 50 yuan per thousand words, with each 40,000-word article costing 2,000 yuan.

The popular science column in the Workers' Life Weekly pays 30 yuan per thousand words, and 300 yuan for a monthly contribution of 10,000 words.

The royalties of 2,200 have been received, and there will be a share of the profits from subsequent reprints.

All in all, I can earn a little over three thousand a month.

In a year and a half, you can probably save 50,000 yuan.

I'll buy a house with 30,000 yuan and keep the rest in Beijing for other purposes.

The premise is that he cannot make any mistakes, not even the slightest one.

Zhang Yong stacked the manuscript paper, weighed it down with an enamel mug, and turned off the desk lamp.

In the darkness, he closed his eyes, and the system panel flashed briefly in his mind.

[Fighting Lv.4: Progress 35% (AFK... 30x speed)]

Two more days.

enough.

He turned over, and the smell of the plaster on his back wafted into his nose again.

……

On the day of the competition.

At eight o'clock in the morning, Li Guilan vigorously scrubbed Zhang Yong's vest on a washboard.

The laundry detergent foam was churning, and when she rubbed her collar, her fingers touched something that wasn't fabric.

She flipped up her collar and saw a pale yellow residue of ointment stuck to the inside. It had softened a bit from being soaked in sweat, but the smell of Chinese medicine was still there.

Li Guilan brought the clothes close to her nose and smelled them.

It's a liniment for bruises and sprains.

Li Guilan wanted to ask where the plaster was applied, but when she reached the bedroom door, she remembered that Zhang Yong had already left.

Just as she was laughing at her bad memory, she suddenly smelled a familiar scent.

Safflower oil.

The faint, spicy smell wafted from Zhang Yong's bedroom. Zhang Defa had worked in long-distance freight for twenty years, and when his back injury flared up, the whole house smelled like this.

Last time, Zhang Yong said he had been beaten by thugs and that's why he applied the ointment because of the bruises. She believed him.

But that bruise should have healed long ago; there's no need to apply safflower oil every day.

Li Guilan was full of doubts. She carried the plastic basin downstairs, hung the clothes on the wire, and then went into the guard room.

Grandpa Chen had disappeared. His grandson, Chen Yang, sat on a bench with his composition book open in front of him and a pencil in his hand, biting the pencil handle and staring blankly.

Li Guilan took out a spiced tea egg from her pocket and waved it in front of Chen Yang.

"Yangyang, do you want some?"

Chen Yang's eyes lit up, and he reached out and touched it.

Li Guilan pulled the egg back.

"Your auntie has something to ask you, and you have to tell her the truth."

Chen Yang's hand froze in mid-air, his eyes rolling around twice.

"Has your brother Yong been getting into fights these past few days?"

Chen Yang's mouth opened and closed repeatedly.

Li Guilan moved the tea egg forward an inch.

"To be honest, my aunt didn't tell him."

Chen Yang swallowed hard, took the egg with both hands, peeled it, and stuffed it into his mouth, his cheeks puffing out like a hamster's.

He chewed a few times and then opened his mouth, speaking in a muffled voice.

"Brother Yong... Brother Yong wasn't fighting with anyone, he went to the gym to practice Sanda (Chinese kickboxing). A coach told him to go every day."

Li Guilan gripped the rim of the basin tightly.

Chen Yang added, "Not only do I know, but Brother Sun Lei knows too. That day, a phone call came to the reception room from the gymnasium looking for Brother Yong, and Brother Sun Lei was there too, and he even chatted with Brother Yong for a few minutes."

The plastic basin in Li Guilan's hand fell to the cement ground with a thud, and her wet undershirt was thrown out, splashing water on the ground.

Chen Yang was startled, wondering why Li Guilan was so nervous.

She turned and left the gatehouse, rushing all the way to the fourth floor.

The Sun family's door was closed.

Li Guilan raised her hand and slammed it against the wooden door.

"Sun Lei! Are you home? Come out quickly!"

......